( The sudden company would be more surprising than it is were his attention not focused on the oddity of the tree and its conflagration of flowers, or his own state of inexcusably turned around. As a rule, he's a man who manages to navigate foreign countries and new cities with little ill happenings. Then again, this is a forest, not a city, and he shouldn't have been anywhere foreign in the first place. He was supposed to be in St. Petersburg, Russia, which had been his home for the vast majority of his life.

He turns his head toward Childermass, shifting the bulk of his attention to him as his brow furrows. A thoughtful frown followed by a sigh and wry smile: he's aware of an absurdity, if ignorant of the larger absurdity. Or at least ignorant of the depth of the truly absurd, from his own point of view. )

The tree's surprising, in an almost... delightful way? ( Were pyrotechnic trees delightful? ) It's the fact I seem to have gotten myself turned around leaving the park.

( This may entirely coincide with everything about the earlier carnival and the present forest resembling nothing like the park he actually knew, but that's neither here nor there. He's tired. Fanciful thoughts and imaginations running wild when tired is nothing new. )

You wouldn't happen to know the way to the proper path back to the streets?